


The High Road and the Low Road

by Lenny9987



Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:28:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24329557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenny9987/pseuds/Lenny9987
Summary: Prompt: Imagine a still-angry Bree went to Craig na dun straight after Claire told her everything, to check out her mother's story, fell through the stones by mistake and met Jamie first.
Comments: 103
Kudos: 252





	1. Chapter 1

Brianna needed to get out of the house and just… away. She couldn’t stand to look at her mother just then and when she’d turned to Roger she’d been disappointed by what she found there. She’d thought they understood one another, thought he’d be on her side – the reasonable side.

But there had been something in his face as he looked at Claire Randall. If not outright belief in the ridiculous story she’d concocted to cover up an affair, then he’d at least been looking at her mother like he  _ wanted _ to believe her. 

And that was the last thing Brianna wanted right then. 

It was Roger’s car. She’d seen him drop the keys in a bowl on the counter when they’d arrived. She looked at the gauge and saw there was a little less than half a tank left. She’d be good for a while. Not that she knew where she was going to go. It just had to be away – and preferably somewhere she could scream where no one would call the police. 

Taking Roger’s car would slow them down if they tried to follow her.

Not if. When. 

She didn’t mean to make it easy for them to find her. 

As soon as she reached the main road, she headed in a direction that would take her away from town and began repeating aloud, “Left side of the road, left side of the road.”

The need to focus on fighting her American instincts and keep from drifting to the other lane actually helped her to calm down. A little. 

She slammed on the brakes when she saw the sign, wincing when a horn blared behind her and another car flew past. 

But then she was along and the rage returned. Craigh na dun. It was absurd that anyone could believe what her mother had said. It was absurd that the very thought of seeing the place was twisting her stomach into knots. 

Gritting her teeth, Brianna put the car back in gear and sped in the direction of the signs. She would see these stones for herself if only to quell that feeling in her stomach, to be able to return to her mother and Roger and give them another telling off. 

It was falling dark as Brianna reached the bottom of the hill and she could just make out the moon peeking between the low tree branches and the standing stones. The bravado of the drive shrank at the eerie sight. 

But there was a stubborn streak that kept her feet moving toward the stones. 

Her ears began to ring and her head to spin as she reached the center of the circle and touched the largest stone.

Pain. In her hand and arm and head. The buzzing in her ears became a scream and it was only as she felt her throat ache she realized she was the one who was screaming.

Her last thought before passing out was that her mother’s description of it all had fallen woefully short. 

* * *

She wanted to throw up from fear as much as the nausea in her belly and the ringing headache that threatened to send her back under as soon as she tried to sit up. 

Brianna scrambled backward, away from the stone, to the edge of the circle. The moon still shone in the sky and the stars seemed brighter too. 

A few deep breaths helped to steady her enough to get to her feet. She brushed away grass and dirt that clung to the corduroy of her skirt. 

Turning on her heel, she carefully made her way down the side of the hill in the direction where she’d left the car. With every step she scolded herself for being ridiculous and gullible enough to have let her mother’s tales affect her in such a way. With every step the buzzing and nausea faded and it was easier to tell herself that she had imagined the whole thing. 

She’d taken too many steps. She should have reached Roger’s car by now or at least the solidity of the paved road. 

Brianna turned around, peering into the darkness. Maybe she’d gotten herself turned around and had come down the wrong side of the hill. Making a quarter turn and referencing the gentle incline of the hill, she did her best to circle the hilltop. 

It only made her feel more lost. She would have to wait until it grew lighter to complete her investigation of the hillside. In the meantime, she was getting cold and any chance of a blanket or additional protection from the elements was in the impossible-to-locate-in-the-dark car. (Why did Roger have to own a brown car? Why couldn’t it have been white and reflective?)

She couldn’t just lie down in the open. Looking around, she saw a faint light in the distance and made her way toward it. It didn’t appear to be moving, so not a car. It was dim, muted, so maybe a house with its curtains closed. But she didn’t think there were any houses this close to Craigh na Dun. She hadn’t noticed any as she passed to get there, anyway, but she was hardly an expert on the area and who lived there or where. She just needed someone who could loan her a flashlight or who had a telephone she could use (worrying her mother and Roger a little was one thing but she couldn’t let them go the whole night wondering where she’d gone). 

Drawing nearer, Brianna was confused. It wasn’t a house – it would barely qualify as a shack. There was no door – well, no door left but old fashioned hinges clung to the frame to show there  _ had _ been a door at one time. The roof appeared to have partially caved in but on the opposite side from where a short chimney stuck out with a faint trail of smoke rising from it. 

Someone must be inside if a fire was lit but was it safe to casually announce her presence?

“Hello?” she called softly, approaching slowly now. “Anybody home? I uh… I’ve gotten myself a bit lost and can’t find the car in the dark – accidentally locked my flash – my  _ torch _ inside. Do you have one you might… let me… borrow?”

There had been no sound, no sign of movement as she reached the door and decided to poke her head inside.

A low fire burned in a hearth that looked like it might collapse in on itself at any moment. 

A figure was curled on its side on the dirt floor in front of the hearth. It was a boy – probably only a few years younger than herself. Maybe this was some play fort or campsite for him. 

Brianna inched closer to the sleeping boy. “Hey… you,” she hissed but he didn’t stir. She gently nudged him with the toe of her boot. 

Startled awake and confused, the boy rolled toward her with a threatening cry and a dagger in his hand, apparently ready to stab her. 

“Whoa!” Brianna exclaimed, jumping back. “I don’t want trouble,” she promised. “Just looking for a little help is all.”

The boy calmed and relaxed as he woke further and realized he wasn’t actually being attacked. 

“Ye scared the piss right out of me,” he told her, returning the dagger to a safe and concealed place in his belt.

“Who are you?” Brianna asked, stepping forward as the boy got to his feet. 

“Ian Murray, ma’am,” he said, smiling and inclining his head toward her. “And what should I call  _ you _ ?”

“Brianna, but you can call me Bree.”

* * *

Claire hadn’t gone to bed and so Roger hadn’t either (though, he  _ had _ dozed off and on in his chair by the fire). She spend most of the night staring out the window, watching for any sign of Brianna’s return. 

Around five, the light finally beginning to show signs of returning, Roger rose from the chair and stretched, back cracking as he yawned. He went to the kitchen to make tea and toast, returning with a simple tray to try and get Claire to eat something. 

“She couldna have gotten far on thwart was left in that tank,” he explained. Brianna didn’t know how quickly the needle could drop from half a tank to empty. “It’s likely she ran out of petrol, pulled over and spent the night in the back. She’ll have to walk a ways to a phone or wait till someone comes along as can give her a ride.” He offered Claire a steaming cup. 

She took it, forcing a smile and nod of thanks before blowing on it but neglecting to take a sip. 

“I want to believe you, Roger, but I’m afraid Bree is very much her father’s daughter… both of them. That display of temper was all Jamie… the running away afterward…”

“That ye think she learned from Frank?” Roger suggested. 

With a sigh and another nod, Claire admitted, “Unfortunately, yes. And the last time we had a fight and he stormed off into the night, he was killed in a car accident.”

Roger felt his own teacup tremble in his hands at the thought. He set it down carefully as he apologized to Claire. “Christ, I hadna thought – I’m so sorry. If I’d realized – I should ha’ called someone to help and we could ha’ been searching for her through the night.”

Claire shook her head. “No, I’m sure she’s fine, like you said. Going after her might have only made matters worse anyhow. Frasers need to wear out their tempers a bit before you stand a chance of getting through to them.” At last she lifted her cup and took a sip of tea, closing her eyes as she swallowed and visibly willed herself to relax. 

“Well, if she doesna return by lunch and hasna phoned, I’ll see if I can borrow Fiona’s car and you and I can look for her,” Roger promised. “Like I said, she couldna ha’ gone too far.”

As Claire smiled her thanks again, the telephone rang. Claire moved to get it before recalling it wasn’t her house and deferring to Roger. 

He moved quickly and, expecting to hear Brianna on the other end, he answered, “Speak of the devil.”

“Roger?” Fiona’s voice replied. 

Roger covered the receiver long enough to whisper to Claire, “Wrong devil.” 

“Aye, I’m here,” he said louder to Fiona. “Sorry, it’s just… early.” 

“Aye, tis and I wouldna have called so early – I’m a bit relieved ye answered at all. I was afraid… but ye’re there.”

“Aye, why would a not be?”

“Oh… well… Ye mayna ken but – ye see, my gran was part of a… a group. They’re… caretakers, ye might say. And since she passed, I took her place in the group.”

“Caretakers of what?”

“The standing circle at Craigh na Dun,” Fiona explained. 

Roger felt himself growing colder, thought he must be paler from the step Claire took towards him. 

“We take it in turns to visit them and see any rubbish is cleared up, that they’ve no been defaced and the like,” Fiona went on at a nervous clip. 

Everything around Roger seemed to be slowing, narrowing to a point as his gaze fixed on Claire. 

“Anyhow, I had a call this morning from… another member of the group. They said yer car had been found abandoned near the stones. I worried something might have happened to ye, but–”

“Brianna,” Roger managed to murmur. 

“Brianna Randall?” Fiona asked. 

“Brianna borrowed my car last night,” he explained. “She didna come home.”

“Roger, what’s happened?” Claire asked, forcefully.


	2. Chapter 2

“Ye’re called ‘Bree’?” Ian clarified.

“That’s right,” Brianna said, her tone defensive.

Ian chuckled. “Well, from what I can see of ye, ye look Scots but ye dinna sound it and ye’ve clearly got no _Gaidhlig_.”

“I should think that was obvious,” Brianna quipped. “Now are you going to help me find my car or not?”

“Yer what?” Ian blinked and yawned from his place on the floor.

“My car – actually, I borrowed it, which is why I need to find it and get it back to Inverness before my mom and Roger get too worried.”

Ian looked at her confused. 

“Inverness? Even if ‘car’ is the name of yer horse and we found him right now, ye’ll never reach Inverness by morning,” Ian informed her. “It’s a day’s ride at least – nearer two.”

Brianna fought to make sense of what he was saying, the knot in her stomach that had untangled the further she walked from the stones was beginning to reform. “But… it couldn’t have been more than an hour after I left that I reached the stones…” she muttered to herself.

“The stones? Ye mean the fairy hill at Craigh na Dun? There’s tales of what happens there to those who get too close. If yer ‘car’ is all the fairies took from ye, count yerself lucky and dinna go near there again,” Ian advised.

“What am I gonna do?” Brianna asked in a quiet panic, voicing her thoughts aloud. “How am I gonna get back? _Can_ I get back?”

“Calm yerself, lass,” Ian urged, relaxing into his place on the floor and closing his eyes. “Whatever it is ye decide to do, ye’ll no be able to make a start until morning, _so,_ ye dinna need to decide till morning either. Ye can stay here tonight and share the fire so ye’re no alone.”

While Brianna was still inclined to panic, exhaustion was encouraging her to take Ian up on his offer. It was more comfortable in the cabin than outside and Ian was right – she needed the light of day to find her way back to Craigh na Dun… or whatever she decided to do. Her body screamed against going back to that stone circle – she didn’t even know what year it was or if she would land back when she’d originally left. What if she ended up further back in medieval days? 

She lowered herself to the floor, eventually lying down parallel to Ian with a gap of about three feet between them and their heads pointed toward the low fire. It would be a rough night on the hard and uneven dirt floor.

She thought Ian had already succumbed to sleep but he turned his face toward her and peeked one eye open.

“Ye never said who yer family are,” he pointed out quietly.

“Yeah well you’re pretty much a stranger,” Brianna reminded him.

He chuckled. “Ye’d no object to sharing that were ye a Scot,” he told her. “And did I ken yer family name, it may be that we’re no strangers after all. Near every man, woman, and child in Scotland can claim common kin some generations back if ye talk it through enough.”

“Well I’m not from around here,” Brianna said defensively. “My mother’s English and my father… he’s dead.”

“But he was a Scot,” Ian guessed.

“That’s what my mother tells me.”

“Ye sound like ye dinna believe her.”

Brianna sighed. What did it matter if she told a stranger the shocking truth? She would be going back through the stones soon anyway (though the thought made her shudder). And she wanted – _needed_ – to talk about it with someone who might understand and feel for what she was going through. She couldn’t explain why, but she felt that this young man would understand her.

“The man who raised me died about two years ago in an accident,” she confided. “I always thought he was my father. _But_ , my mother recently told me that actually, she was already pregnant with me when she… married him. She’s only just told me that she was married to another man before him and that _that_ man was my real father. He died in battle and she… It’s uh… it’s been a bit of a shock.”

“I’m sorry, lass. I didna mean to make light. My uncle fought at Culloden. Lucky to be alive. Was wounded and nearly died of a fever. To hear my mam tell it, he tried a few times and wasna happy wi’ her for stoppin’ him,” Ian shared. “I’m headed to Edinburgh to see him. He’s a printer now. My mam and da need seed and tools from the city so I thought I’d fetch them and check in on my uncle while I’m there.”

“Sounds… nice,” Brianna replied when he paused. “I didn’t grow up with much in the way of family and now it’s just me and my mom.”

“Is that why ye’re travelin’ alone? Ye dinna have kin to travel wi’ ye and protect ye?”

“I can take pretty good care of myself,” Brianna snapped. “You’re traveling alone and you’re younger than me.” 

“No by much, I’d wager,” Ian snapped back. “And I’m a man, besides.”

“Do your parents even know you’re here or did you run away or something?”

Ian sputtered and scoffed, struggling to find words with which to deny her accusation.

Brianna laughed. “You ran away.”

“Well, then I suppose ye think ye’re too good for my help. Perhaps ye’d prefer to sleep outside if ye’re so capable of takin’ care of yerself.”

“I don’t care if you’ve run away or not and the first thing to know about taking care of yourself is knowing when to ask for and accept help,” Brianna told him. 

“Did yer father teach ye that? Certainly sounds like what my Da would say. My mam would tell me to stop courtin’ trouble in the first place.”

“My mother says it, actually. She’s a doctor – a surgeon. She’s used to helping people and convincing her more stubborn patients to accept help when it’s offered.”

“A surgeon? Really? And yer father didna mind?”

Brianna shifted to find a more comfortable position (there wasn’t one). She was tired and not thinking straight. She’d have to be more careful. She was confident she must be some time after Culloden from what the boy said (but how long after could be anywhere between five and fifty years for all she knew). 

“Didn’t say he didn’t mind it. But my mother is an unusual woman.” Brianna felt a stab of longing as she thought of her mother. She missed her desperately. Why had she let her temper get the better of her? She should have stayed and heard her mother out – of course, who could blame her for not believing Claire’s story?

“A rare woman,” Ian murmured. “Tha’s how my da talks of my mam…” He yawned. “Best we rest now. I’ll see if there’s anything I can help ye with in the morning ‘fore I go on my way,” he promised.

“Thanks,” Brianna said with a yawn of her own. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm her mind and pretend she was back at the Manse, that this was all a dream and the world would make sense again when she woke.

* * *

Ian woke before her and was watching her strangely when she started coming around. She turned away to yawn and stretch, then faced him again.

“You know, it’s unsettling, you watching like that,” she said, not really ready to be awake and have to think about her predicament again.

“Sorry,” Ian said, flushing and offering her a bit of bread from the pack he’d brought. “It’s just… I didna get a fair look at ye before. There’s something… Who did ye say yer family are?”

“I didn’t,” Brianna reminded him. “But I guess you didn’t attack me in my sleep.”

“Gave ye food as well,” he pointed out.

“My mother’s name is Claire. And she’s going to murder me for getting lost like this and scaring her,” Brianna told him, hoping to sidestep the subject of her father so _she_ wouldn’t have to think about it more.

“And ye said ye got lost near the fairy hill?”

“You mean Craigh na Dun? Yes. If you point me in the right direction, I should be able to get back on my own.”

Ian dusted away crumbs and began pulling his pack back together, readying to depart.

“I can’t let ye go on yer own – it would be too dangerous. But I also cannae be turnin’ back just now. I’ve no time to lose on my way to Edinburgh.”

“It can’t be _that_ far away,” Brianna objected. “I wandered from there to here in less than a night.”

“And ye’re lucky ye werena set upon as ye did,” Ian warned. “It’s no a safe stretch here – not if ye dinna ken the safe places along the way, like this wee cabin here. It’ll be safer for both of us if we travel together as I _do_ ken the safe stops along the way.” 

“You want me to go all the way to Edinburgh with you?” Brianna asked, skeptical. “Even though the place I’m trying to find is the other direction…”

“I promise we’ll no stay in Edinburgh for more than a day or two and my uncle will be more’n happy to let ye stay wi’ him, as he’s used to puttin’ me up. Then, on my way home again, I’ll be able to bring ye all the way to Inverness myself.”

It was a crazy, ridiculous, and stupid idea to follow this boy all the way to Edinburgh. She had no way to get word to her mother – if it was possible for her to get back at all… Maybe her mother was unique in being able to go back and forth. From her mom’s stories, this was where she should have been born. What if the stones decided this was where she belonged and that was it? Could she risk wandering off on her own only to discover she was trapped here alone without even basic supplies? Ian seemed nice enough and was willing to help. If she let him walk away and she was really stuck here, how long would it take her to find another person and what were the chances they would be willing or able to help?

And who was to say that even with a detour, when she reached the stones and went back again, maybe she'd show up the same day she’d left. Her mother didn’t seem to know how they worked so it was anyone’s guess. Besides, having made the journey and gotten through her initial panic, she had to admit she was getting curious. She’d studied this time extensively – read about it in her father’s books countless times. But to have a chance to _live_ it…

She couldn’t believe she was actively talking herself into it and promised it would only be for a few days – she still couldn’t imagine what (or who) could have inspired her mother to stay for almost three _years_. 

“Fine,” Brianna muttered, rolling her eyes at the triumphant grin that broke across Ian’s face. “But if your uncle refuses to let me stay, whatever alternative lodgings are necessary are going to be found and paid for by _you_. And we can’t stay in Edinburgh for more than a few days.”

“I can assure ye, my uncle willna mind. Now, if ye’re ready, we can make a start and if we’re lucky, we’ll find someone wi’ a cart who’ll let us have a ride part of the way.”

“Hitchhiking,” Brianna remarked with a smile as she squinted into the early morning sun. “That I can do.”

* * *

“If she didn’t come back through right away, then it must mean something’s happened to her,” Claire explained as she packed supplies – a change of clothes for herself and Brianna, her traveling medical kit, some food.

“Ye cannae know that for sure,” Roger insisted. “We cannae even be certain she _went_ through the stones. We don’t know she can or why it is you can.”

“She went through with me when I was pregnant. That’s reason enough for me to believe. And she wouldn’t wander off on her own and if she found a ride with someone and was safe, she would have phoned. She went through the stones and she’s stuck or injured or scared or all three. I won’t leave her alone there for a moment longer than I have to.”

“Right,” Roger agreed. “Fiona will be here in a few minutes. What can I do?”

“Are you going to try and come with me or are you going to wait on this side for me to bring her back?”

Roger froze. “What makes ye think I could even travel through the stones?”

Claire nodded to the framed family tree on the wall.

“William Buccleigh Mackenzie. He wasn’t the child of those two listed there. Well… he was. But their son by that name died before his first birthday. The one that lived to father children was born to Geillis Duncan and Dougal Mackenzie – and I know for a fact Geillis Duncan traveled through the stones.”

“What? How?” Roger sputtered.

But Fiona had pulled into the yard. 

“I’ll tell you in the car,” Claire promised.

Roger hastily grabbed a few things and threw them into a bag before ushering Claire outside and locking the door behind them.


	3. Chapter 3

“1968,” Roger repeated, almost in a trance after what Claire had told him. “Then… there’s a chance she hasna gone back yet.”

“A chance,” Claire agreed. “Though I couldn’t tell you the first thing about how we could even begin to find her… save camping out at the stones and watching for her.”

“And ye think it’s an ability that passes down from mother to child?”

Claire shrugged. “Or father. My own parents died when I was so young – when _they_ were still very young – I doubt they ever even knew they had the ability, wherever one of them it came from.”

Fiona never took her eyes from the familiar road as she added, “Grannie and the others talk of it running in families – the fairies’ interest, that is. The tales say the fairies are like to take the daughters of women they stole before, mistaking the daughter for the mother.”

“Sounds like a way to explain something bein’ hereditary,” Roger conceded. “But all the tales I’ve heard speak of women taken. D’ye believe a man can pass through?”

“Geillis was only the first traveler I met,” Claire confessed, launching into an abbreviated account of her time in Paris and Master Raymond. 

“But the question of whether you can is easily solved – you touch the stones and something either happens or it doesn’t,” Claire said, looking at Roger, watching him and the grip he had on the small pack of clothes and supplies he’d hastily grabbed on their way out the door. “The more important questions is will you try.”

“I wouldna feel right watchin’ ye go on yer own,” he said too quickly. “And I feel Brianna going is partly my fault. My contributions to the conversation hardly calmed her.” He looked out the window, avoiding Claire’s knowing gaze. 

“Whatever your reason, I thank you for being willing to come and help me. I don’t know what might go wrong, but if anything should happen to me, it’s a comfort to know Brianna will have you there too.”

Roger continued looking away but nodded. He didn’t want to think of having to tell Brianna that something had happened to her mother (and that he hadn’t been enough to stop it). 

“We’re here,” Fiona announced, turning onto the road that inclined gently upward to the hill and the standing stones crowning it. 

* * *

“Have you run away from home before?” Brianna asked quietly as she held tight to the edge of the cart, praying they wouldn’t hit a bump strong enough to send her falling to the dusty road below. Ian looked far too comfortable where he was perched on a wooden crate next to one of the back wheels. He swayed but Brianna quickly noted that his movements worked with the swaying of the cart, adjusting and correcting for every tilt and jerk.

“I dinna see it as running away,” he explained. “Put that way it sounds like I dinna mean ever to return. It’s more… a brief change of scene. And I do try always to make myself useful,” he added. “This visit I’m fetching my da what he needs for farmin’ the fields and to help my uncle wi’ his business. He usually has plenty of work and no enough help for it. One of these days, I’m goin’ to ask him can I stay wi’ him for good.”

They had walked for a few hours before a man with a cart came up along the road behind them. Ian ran alongside and launched into Gaidhlig so Brianna had no clue what he’d said to convince the man to let them ride along, but within a few minutes the cart slowed enough for Ian to help Brianna up into the back. They didn’t dare take out Ian’s food stores with the cart jostling along (and a third party who might request a portion as payment for the ride). Instead, they chatted to cover the noise of their grumbling stomachs and Brianna glanced around at a landscape more lush and beautiful than she felt she’d ever be able to appreciate fully in her own time. 

“And what about you?” Ian asked, drawing Brianna’s attention back. “What were ye doing that ye became so lost?”

“I had an argument with my mother and took a walk to cool off. I just went further than I realized or meant to,” Brianna admitted, fighting the nervous impulse to laugh. She couldn’t have traveled much further if she’d tried. 

“So… ye ran away?” Ian teased. 

Brianna rolled her eyes at him, flushing as she heard him laughing at her. 

“What was it ye and yer mam argued over? Was it to do wi’ yer da? Ye said she told ye it wansa the man ye thought. Did she tell ye much about the man who is yer father?” 

“Yes, we fought about that. She lied to me my entire life – and about who I am. You’d be mad too if you found out yer father was someone you had never met.”

“Oh aye,” Ian agreed. “I’m named for my da. Dinna ken what I’d make of it were he no my father by blood… But I dinna ken it would change too much. He’s a good man, my da – better’n I ever manage. I dinna ken how to be like him so I dinna think it’s worth killin’ myself tryin’. Uncle – that is, I dinna feel my uncle is as disappointed in me when I do things wrong. Ken… there have been times when I wished my uncle was my father.”

Brianna said nothing. She had never wished for a different father – not that she could recall, anyway. There had been a few times she’d wished her mother were different – not that another woman was her mother, but that Claire had behaved more like other mothers, that sort of thing. But what if Frank had wished _she_ were different? What if he had wished for a daughter more like him, a daughter who was actually his and not a reminder of the man his wife had left him for – a reminder that he was the consolation, that he was what was left when the love of his wife’s life was gone…

“Did she tell ye about him?” Ian pressed. 

“Only a little and I wasn’t to inclined to pay attention. She said I look like him – my hair, my eyes, my height… She said he was smart and kind, that he spoke several languages and was a strong leader to the men who fought with him,” Brianna listed. She was amazed she remembered so much of what Claire had told her. She was ashamed it wasn’t more. 

“Sounds a good man,” Ian told her. “Are ye sorry ye cannae meet him?”

Brianna shrugged. “You can’t miss what you’ve never had. I had a dad and he was pretty great. I’d want to have him back more than someone I never met… I think,” Brianna hedged. “I don’t know. Maybe part of me _is_ curious, but what’s the point of wishing for it when it’s never going to happen?”

“I suppose that makes sense. Ye cannae be disappointed if ye never meet him, either,” Ian replied, a somber note in his voice. “But he might also be better’n ye could know if ye dinnae meet him and see for yerself.” 

“Which, again, doesn’t really matter as it’s never going to happen.”

“Right,” Ian agreed quickly, looking away to where a small flock of birds startled upward from the moor – perhaps disturbed by the sound of their cart passing.

Brianna and Ian allowed the silence between them to stretch comfortably as the miles slowly accumulated behind them. 

* * *

Roger came to first, but it took him a while to sort out where he was and what had happened. 

He was on the ground in the stone circle and everything seemed to pulse around him, a distracting buzzing fading in and out, ringing in his ears. When he turned his head, he saw Claire crumpled and unmoving a few feet away.

Cursing under his breath, Roger tried to roll in her direction but he found his body resistant to the idea, crying out in pain and frustration instead.

The noise succeeded in rousing Claire, however. With a loud gasp, she jolted upright, looking around until her eyes found Roger… and no sign of Fiona.

“Looks like we made it,” she declared, groaning as she struggled to her feet. “Though a little worse for the wear.”

“It was worse than ye said,” he grumbled, crawling to his pack which had ended up a few feet away.

“It gets worse each time,” Claire said. “I don’t… I don’t know if I’ll be able to get through again.” Panic hovered at the edges of her voice as she glanced to Roger. He could see her pushing it to the side as she moved to the edge of the circle and gazed down the hill toward the road. 

“She has a significant head start on us, whichever direction she’s gone,” Claire started. 

“Do ye think we ought to split up?” Roger asked. “If we go down the road in opposite directions, we can ask after her of anyone we meet. Then, if we know we’re on the right path, we keep after her and if we find she’s no been seen, we can turn back. We wait here till the other returns wi’ her and we all go back together.”

“That assumes she sticks to the road,” Claire countered.

“Have ye any reason to think she’d stray from it?”

“You mean besides the fact she took off here on her own in a huff and fell through inadvertently? It was dark when she came through. There’s a very good chance she missed the road altogether,” Claire theorized, yielding to her worst fears as she ran her gaze up and down the road, searching for impossible signs of Brianna.

“Do ye have another suggestion then?” Roger asked, the lingering headache from the journey and his own fears for Brianna adding to his frustration and erasing any care he might take for Claire’s position. “Hemmin’ and hawin’ willna accomplish anything but wastin’ time.”

“Well it looks like it’s delayed us enough to bring a small bit of good fortune our way,” she exclaimed, taking care as she started down the hill toward the road. “There’s a rider headed this way. You need to call out to him and ask if he’s seen a young woman hereabouts.”

“And why must it be me?” Roger queried, still frustrated and ornery as he followed her path of descent.

“I’m a sassenach in the Highlands,” she reminded him. “And a woman,” she added with annoyance.

“Right,” Roger sighed before beginning to wave his arms and call out to the man approaching on horseback.

The man slowed as he drew closer but he did not appear inclined to stop.

“My apologies, friends, but I’m on an errand that–”

He stopped the horse abruptly, color draining from his face.

Claire reached out and gripped Roger’s arm tightly, causing him to wince.

“Claire?” the man on the horse asked with breathless disbelief.

She responded in kind, “Ian?”


	4. Chapter 4

Roger watched, speechless as the man scrambled down from his horse and awkwardly stumbled toward Claire, who rushed to meet him in a warm embrace.

“Wha– How? Claire, where have ye been these years? We despaired of ye and thought ye dead long ago,” Ian said as he pulled back from her, wiping a hand over his face. 

Roger finally noticed the man’s leg and the pieces slipped into place.

“The brother-in-law,” he said quietly.

Not quietly enough.

“Yes, Roger, this is Ian Murray. Jamie was his brother-in-law, married to his sister, Jenny. But how is Jenny?” Claire pressed on, ignoring Ian’s larger, more daunting questions. “Are she and the children well?”

Still too shocked by Claire’s appearing on the road, Ian blinked and fell into the habit of politeness. “Aye, Jenny’s well enough – and the bairns. We’ve a sight more’n when we last saw ye – grandbairns too. Claire… why? Why did ye no even write to tell us ye yet lived? Jamie never said… He must think ye dead.”

Roger saw Claire begin to sway where she stood and stepped forward, a steadying hand at her back. She leaned into him and nearly caused him to stumble.

“What do ye mean, Jamie thinks she’s dead?” Roger asked, Claire’s weight growing heavier and her breathing coming drawn and shaky.

“Who are you?” Ian asked rather than answer. “Claire, who is this lad?”

“Jamie’s alive?” Claire managed to ask, the reluctance and need to hope in each quiet word.

Ian’s face softened and the tears returned to his eyes. “Aye. Had a mind to die when he arrived, wounded in a wagon. But Jenny wouldna allow it. We thought… with the news of the battle and the army… and what they did after as they set upon the Highlands… We thought ye must be dead and Jamie… He didna say much but what little he  _ did _ say was that ye were gone – lost.”

“He sent me away,” Claire murmured. She wasn’t leaning into Roger quite as heavily but he could feel her trembling with the shock. “He made me leave. He wanted to be sure we’d be safe.”

Ian looked to Roger with wide eyes but Roger shook his head and held out a hand. 

“Roger Wakefield. I’m a family friend.”

“Ian Murray, though ye kent that.”

“Claire’s mentioned ye, aye,” Roger confirmed. 

“Jamie’s alive,” Claire murmured again, this time with more conviction. “Where is he? Is he at Lallybroch? Do… do you think he would want to see me?”

“Oh, he’d want to see ye alright, though the shock of it might well stop him dead. He’s no at Lallybroch. Has a print shop in Edinburgh. I’m on my way there now, as it happens. My youngest lad – Ian – has up and left, scarin’ Jenny and me, though we ken that’s no his intent. I’d be more worrit did he no go to Jamie every time like a pup after its playmate. But Claire… If ye thought Jamie dead and ye didna write or come to us in the past twenty years… Why are ye here now? Did ye finally have a mind to tell us ye were safe?”

Claire blinked at Ian, awareness of the present returning to her slowly. She glanced at Roger and snapped the rest of the way back to herself.

“I’m looking for my daughter,” she admitted and, when she saw surprise and hope in Ian’s face, Claire confirmed, “She’s Jamie’s. He knew I carried a child and could see how hopeless it was by the time we reached Culloden. His name was on Prince Charles’ declaration – whatever happened he would be… So he decided it would be in battle, that he would go down fighting. But he made me go, knew I wouldn’t be safe at Lallybroch because I would be his widow. I got out and survived a journey to the colonies. I married a man there and he agreed to raise Brianna as his own–”

“Brianna?” Ian interrupted.

“I promised Jamie… It was the last thing he asked of me. All this time I thought he was…” Claire broke down and both men stepped forward to offer her comfort, inspiring a frustrated laugh instead. “The bloody man meant to die. If I’d thought…”

“Aye, Claire. I ken ye wouldna have gone and ye wouldna have kept yer distance,” Ian said. “But where’s the lass now? Now ye’re here and ken the truth, Jamie’ll want to see ye both.”

“I hadn’t told her growing up – the truth about her father. But my husband died and… He was the one who didn’t want her to know and once he was gone…”

“She didna take it well,” Roger added. “She ran off and we’ve come searchin’ for her.”

“Did ye tell her of Lallybroch? Would she be makin’ her way there?” Ian asked glancing back over his shoulder at the way he’d come.

“If you’d encountered her, you would have known her,” Clair assured him with a proud smile. “She looks too much like him.”

Ian chuckled and shook his head. “Well, I might as well help ye search for her. Young Ian will be safe enough wi’ Jamie in Edinburgh and I’d like to see Jamie’s face when I turn up wi’ his lost child for a change.”

Roger looked to Claire who had indeed somehow managed to turn paler.

“Ye’re sure she came this way?”

“We think she must be headed in tha’ direction,” Roger explained, distracting Ian from Claire till she could better collect herself. “More certain now ye’ve confirmed ye havana seen her already.”

Ian glanced back over his shoulder again, his brow furrowed.

“How long ago do ye expect she’d ha’ come through this way?” Ian asked.

“It would only have been sometime last night. We expected her to come back by morning on her own,” Roger said before catching himself – at least he hadn’t mentioned where  _ they’d _ been when she went missing, Inverness being too far away for any of them to have gotten so far so fast.

But Ian led his horse over to the side of the road where the terrain began to dip again and a small, rundown cabin hid from view.

“My lad has a habit of restin’ there on his way through this stretch,” he told them. “Caught him up here once and tanned his hide by that tree. I’d guess he’d ha’ been here either last night or the day before if he’d managed to ride along wi’ someone passing through. There’s a chance… If yer lass truly has as much of Jamie’s looks as ye say…”

Claire started and Roger frowned.

“Ye cannae think… Brianna would never…” he objected. 

“I’m not so sure,” Claire said. “She is a Fraser, after all.”

Ian laughed. “Aye. They dinna always do what makes sense, especially if their hearts are muddled o’er something. And my lad’s a fair bit of the Mackenzie about him or he’d no have managed to sneak away and make it to Jamie in Edinburgh so many times. Actually, if he’s a companion, it just might slow him down enough to catch him up.” Ian turned to swing himself back up onto his horse. “I’ll ride ahead a ways and try to find ye horses, then swing back to meet ye as best I can.”

“Thank you, Ian,” Claire called.

“When we’ve more time I expect to hear more of yer travels and life in the colonies,” he told her. “And Jenny will have a fair few questions of her own.”

Claire watched him ride ahead, neither her nor Roger able to take a single step from their spont in the middle of the road.

“Jamie’s alive,” Roger said at last, his astonishment written across his face. 

Disbelief, hope and fear warred across Claire’s.

* * *

Edinburgh was incredible. Brianna hadn’t been for more than a shopping trip with her mother early in their visit but that had only been a few weeks ago… for her. What would she make of Inverness? She’d spent more of the visit there and the surrounding area.

Ian had to take her hand and pull her along on several occasions so they wouldn’t be separated.

“Come along, cousin,” he said, causing her to frown. “Ye ken our uncle’s shop is this way.”

“When are you gonna stop doing that?” she hissed. It had been one thing when they were on the road and needed to project some sort of family relationship for their safety.

“Just a wee bit longer at least,” Ian teased. “There’s the sign.”

“A. Malcolm? What’s the ‘A’ for?”

“Alexander, but that’s no really his name – Malcolm either. They’re part of his given name but he couldna easily use his real name as he’s a bit notorious, ken?” Ian rambled excitedly, ushering Brianna forward through the shop door, a bell announcing their entrance.

“Geordie?” a voice called from the back room.

Brianna tried to move off to the side out of the way but Ian’s hand found its way to her back, gently guiding her closer to the counter.

“No, Uncle Jamie,” Ian answered. “It’s only me and I’ve someone I want ye to meet.”

Brianna had frozen at the name. Jamie. But there was no way… She hadn’t told Ian the name of the man her mother had claimed was her father and anyway, Jamie Fraser was dead. James must be as common a name as any and Jamie as well – look at all the Willies and Rabbies there were about.

But there was something in the way Ian was standing behind her, the energy of him, the teasing…

How could he possibly have guessed? How could Jamie Fraser be alive?

Footsteps approached and Brianna could hear the man speaking – scolding – as he made his way to the front of the store.

As soon as she saw him, she knew how Ian had known his uncle was her father. 

Her mother hadn’t lied when she said Brianna looked just like Jamie Fraser.


	5. Chapter 5

Young Ian looked smug about something. Jamie knew that was rarely a good sign. Having sufficiently scolded his nephew – who hadn’t even bothered to lie or twist the truth about having absconded from Lallybroch without his parents’ knowledge – Jamit turned his attention to the lass Young Ian had brought with him. 

She looked petrified, poor thing. Who was she and what had Young Ian told her as he brought her here? _Why_ had he brought her here? No doubt part of her open-mouthed fear had to do with the yelling Jamie had just done in front of her. 

“Apologies, lass,” Jamie said, bowing his head in her direction. “I ought not to have carried on so in front of ye. I’m Alexander malcolm and–”

“I already told her that’s no yer name, Uncle,” Young Ian confessed. 

“ _Iffrin_ ,” Jamie muttered under his breath. 

The lass continued to watch him carefully. I unnerved him, her gaze. There was something familiar about her… He must know some of her people – her father or a sibling perhaps.

“Ian says yer name is Brianna?” The name felt awkward in his mouth.

“Brianna,” she confirmed but with a different emphasis, a different accent. Her voice was quiet and unsteady. 

“I met her on the road from Lallybroch,” Young Ian explained. “She was lost and I told her I’d help her find her way to Inverness on my way back. I told her ye’d be fine wi’ her stayin’ wi’ us as I couldna leave her to fend for herself.”

Jamie kept his face controlled, motionless as he fought the urge to wring his nephew’s neck. His rented rooms were small and cramped and he felt no guilt making Young Ian sleep on the floor when he ran away like this – just part of his punishment really. But he couldn’t let the lass sleep so rough. What had possessed the lad to make such an offer?

“Ye’re lost then?” Jamie asked, turning to Brianna, hoping her plight would help to calm and refocus him.

But she only nodded, still too nervous or frightened to speak.

“Well, Ian’s right – I’ll no turn ye away do ye need a safe place, but it’s no the lap of luxury.” 

All he got was another nod.

Jamie sighed and reached past the shrinking girl to take Young Ian by the shoulder and pull him toward the back of the shop. “A word,” he demanded. 

“Where did ys find the lass?” he asked under his breath, his eyes drifting to watch her as she relaxed a little and began to look around the shop.

“It was near the fairy hill,” Young Ian explained quietly. “Craig na Dun.”

A chill went up Jamie’s spine at the mention of that dreaded place. Perhaps the lass – like Claire – had been ripped from all that she knew and was truly lost the way Young Ian said… Had she confided in his nephew? Would she need more help than the lad kent to offer?

“And ye say she’s on her way back to Inverness?” Jamie raised an eyebrow at Young Ian who tried his best to look insulted.

“Tha’s where she asked to be taken,” he explained.

“And so she will be,” Jamie nodded. “Because I’m going to see here there with ye.” (With a stop at the stones if it pleased the lass.) “Then I’m takin’ ye all the way home to Lallybroch.”

Young Ian’s face fell at the prospect.

“But Da’s likely on his way to fetch me as it is and ye cannae afford to take the time away,” the lad objected. “Really, it would help you and them back home more did ye convince Da to let me stay here and work wi’ ye.”

“I’m no interested in an apprentice as doesna do as he’s told,” Jamie countered. “Stop runnin’ away, help yer mam and da for a year wi’out complaint and _then_ we’ll see if ye’re a fair prospect for me to take on. Now, we’ll leave tomorrow if I can manage the arrangements this afternoon. Day after if it takes longer to settle. And whatever this costs me in business, ye’ll be makin’ up to me should I desire to hire ye in future.” Jamie pointed a finger at an increasingly dejected Young Ian before turning to the lass to tell her the plan. 

She was standing Looking over the copy of _Pamela_ from the shelf of popular titles he stocked for patrons to examine. And she was. There was an amazement and reverence to how she held the book, a care to how she turned the pages, a curiosity as she ran her finger over the seams and spine.

“Ye can read then, lass,” he said, unintentionally startling her. 

The book fell to the counter as she pressed a hand to her chest and muttered, “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.”

Jamie had been reaching for the book as he saw it falling but was lucky to grab the counter and brace himself as he felt the world shift beneath his feet.

“Uncle Jamie?!” Young Ian cried, dashing over to the man’s side. “Are ye alright?” He looked to Brianna, confused.

But her full attention was on Jamie and she looked frozen and maybe a little terrified.

Jamie brushed off Young Ian’s hand as he got his feet back under him, his own gaze fixed on Brianna, looking her over more closely. The familiarity he’d felt before… how had he misplaced it? She looked like the portrait of his mother still gracing the walls of Lallybroch. He’d always found something irresistible about the way Claire carried herself – not the self-assured confidence of a vain and beautiful woman used to being flattered (though Claire had certainly been the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen), but the confident bearing of a woman who knew and was sure of herself.

Despite the uncertainty and hesitation in her eyes, Brianna stood taller, rising to meet and hold his confused and hungry attention. It was something he’d seen Claire do a hundred times.

“Ye ken who I am?” Jamie croaked, then swallowed hard against the swelling in his throat. His hands felt clammy and shook as he tried to wipe them surreptitiously on his breeks. “Are… are you who I think you are?” he whispered.

“Are you Jamie Fraser?” Brianna asked, her eyes darting briefly – accusingly – to Young Ian. “Your nephew never did tell me your real name.”

“I am,” Jamie nodded. “And ye’re my… Claire – she… she told ye then? She sent ye?”

“She told me,” Brianna confirmed quietly. “She also told me you were dead.”

“Then she is yer daughter,” Young Ian piped up, victory rising in his voice. “I kent ye must be, soon as ye said yer mam’s name was Claire and that she was English. Ye’re the spit of Uncle Jamie and everyone at Lallybroch kens the stories–”

“Ian,” Jamie interrupted sharply. “Go see to the back.”

“See to _what_ in the back?”

“Just _go_.”

“Ah… right. I’ll leave ye two to get acquainted,” Young Ian rambled, color rising in his cheeks and a smug expression blooming on his face. He disappeared from the room, though, and Jamie finally looked away from Brianna long enough to move to the front door and lock it against further disruption. 

“Is Claire… How is she?” Jamie asked, still too unsure what to make of the grown daughter standing before him. 

“Well, she’s probably worried and pissed at me,” Brianna said with a wary sigh. “My trip here wasn’t exactly planned – I mean, not just to Edinburgh but to seventeen-whatever year this is.”

“1766,” Jamie informed her. “It’s been twenty years since I bid yer mother farewell… I’ve thought of her – of both of ye – and prayed for ye every day since then.”

His voice was quiet and sad, broken and earnest. It tugged at Brianna’s chest in an unexpected way. She’d heard that sorrowful longing before. 

It had been in her mother’s voice when she’d told Brianna about Jamie – about losing him. 

She took a step closer to him and reached out to rest her hand on his arm. He stilled beneath her touch like an animal spooked and debating whether to flee or play dead. The thought helped put her own trepidation into perspective. He was just as intimidated by her as she was by him – perhaps more.

Brianna reached for what they had in common and found further comfort in speaking about her mother. 

“I’m pretty sure she thought about you and prayed for you a lot too,” she told him. “I didn’t know about you for a long time growing up, but since she told me… there are a lot of things about her and about her and Daddy that make more sense now.”

“Frank,” Jamie replied with a tamed disgust that gave Brianna pause. “Did he treat ye well? Both of ye?”

“Always,” she said confidently before flashes of doubt flickered in her now-untrusted memory. “At least… I know he loved me and never treated me… I don’t even know. I never doubted him or questioned that he – and I always though he and Mama were happy. Now… now I wish I’d listened to her more when she was telling me the whole story and that I hadn’t – well, let’s just say I could’ve handled the news about you better.” She flushed, remembering her behavior.

For the first time the air of sorrow and longing lifted and she noticed curiosity creep into Jamie’s face.

“Aye, I can imagine it must’ve come as a shock to ye,” he assured her, his tone slightly cautious. “I didna ken what to make of it myself when she first told me the truth of where she was from. Didna matter much to me either – I was already too far gone for her. But she didna seem to care o’er much for my askin’ her was she a witch.”

Brianna stifled a laugh as the mental image of her mother first as the Wicked Witch of the West popped into her head before it transformed into Claire as Glinda floating in her giant bubble. Traveling by bubble was far more appealing than the thought of touching those stones again.

“I _may_ have called her a few colorful things,” Brianna confessed. “I don’t think ‘witch’ was one of them, though. No, I was thinking more about the poker I hurled through the window,” she added in a quieter voice.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise and then she laughed. The surprise faded to an amused and prideful smile.

“Well… that might be a bit of the Fraser temper,” Jamie told her with a knowing nod, then leaned conspiratorially forward. “Though yer mam did throw a bit of crockery now and again – usually at my head.”

It was Brianna’s turn to mirror his surprised and impressed expression. This time they both laughed, drawing Young Ian from the back room.

“Ye’re no laughin’ at me, are ye?”

* * *

Ian had secured them lodgings for the night. They would reach Edinburgh the next day by his reckoning and he assured Claire that it was highly likely that Brianna and Young Ian had already reached the safety of Jamie and the printshop.

“Ye’ve heard it from at least three folks as have seen them making their way,” he reminded her as they ate from a tray in their meagre room. She would (reluctantly) take the bed while Ian and Roger made do on the floor with the pillows and blankets she insisted they take from the bed. 

“Aye, Claire,” Roger chimed in, “she’s no alone and that’s the key thing. She’s safe and we’ll find her.”

“I don’t doubt that,” she asserted, though with less conviction than she hoped to convey. “It’s just… if I’d known he was alive and that they’d be meeting one another… It’s not how I would’ve wanted them to meet is all. For them to be blindsided by it–”

“I doubt Ian managed to keep it secret from her, did he truly ken who she was,” Ian speculated. “He’s the Mackenzie knack for plotting mischief, but no the knack for carrying it out well. More like to muck it up, that one,” he finished with a laugh. 

He rose to carry away the empty tray over Claire and Roger’s objections. 

Left alone, Roger still kept his voice low as he asked Claire, “Have ye thought what ye mean to say to Jamie when ye see him? What it means now ye ken he’s alive?”

Claire face told him what he already suspected – she’d been thinking of little else.

“Ye said it gets worse each time ye try to pass through the stones, aye? And ye werena sure ye’d even survive a trip back… Maybe… maybe it’s because yer place is here with Jamie,” he suggested.

“And where would that leave Brianna?” Claire challenged. “She’s still not over losing Frank and everything she’s ever known has just been pulled out from under her. What kind of mother would I be if I abandoned her now too?”

“Maybe ye won’t have to choose,” Roger replied, hope and resignation warring within him. “Maybe she’ll want to say.”

“I doubt that very much.”

Roger looked at Claire until he caught her attention completely.

“She didna just pass through the stones and run straight back,” he reminded her. “Brianna chose to come to Edinburgh. And she’ll have met a father she didna ken she had. You didna think to stay until ye met Jamie. She might surprise ye.”

“I’ve lived longer with both Brianna and the pull of life on either side of those stones,” Claire pointed out. 

“And? What do ye think will come of it?”

“Heartbreak. Maybe not at first, but eventually. And the bit before the heartbreak has to be enough to help you survive it all.”

“Well,” Roger nodded and smiled. “I’ve heard ye tell plenty of yer time here before ye went back, so I think it’s a safe bet to say it will be.”


End file.
